


The Dog Days Are Over

by SoloChaos



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 19:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: The summer between eighth and ninth grade is a long one. He and Jess are currently in the “off” aspect of their relationship, and with Scott away at his grandparents’ for the summer, Brad is left with nothing to distract him from the creeping realization that something about him isdifferent.





	The Dog Days Are Over

**Author's Note:**

> I usually put trigger warnings in the beginning notes, but I thought that doing that for this fic would spoil too much of it. If you have any concerns about triggers, please check the end notes before reading. Thanks!
> 
> This is a work of fiction posted to a fanfiction website. This is also unbeta'd. Please let me know about any grammatical mistakes. Thank you!

The summer between eighth and ninth grade is a long one. He and Jess are currently in the “off” aspect of their relationship, and with Scott away at his grandparents’ for the summer, Brad is left with nothing to distract him from the creeping realization that something about him is _different._

Brad is different. He’d thought it was because of his hair, or his eyes, so unlike the features of the rest of his family. But now, at thirteen (almost fourteen) years old, he’s starting to think it might be something else, something more nebulous and maybe even insidious. 

He’s been going their synagogue’s summer youth group since he was little. The synagogue isn’t far; he and his sisters used to ride their bikes there every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. But his sisters are in college now, and they work over the summers, so there’s no one to tell on him when he starts skipping youth group and explores the city instead.

When he skips youth group for the fifth time and finds himself in the company of a boy with gray eyes and pink lips, Brad finally starts to realize just how different he is.

 

 

 

The boy’s name is Chris, and he works in the auto repair shop that his father owns. Brad visits Chris nearly every afternoon, when Chris’s father is out on his obscenely long lunch break, and Chris shows him the cars he’s working on.

(The cars are fascinating; almost as fascinating as Chris himself. Brad finds himself watching how Chris’s hands wrap around the tools he uses more than what he actually does with the tools.)

Chris is so effortlessly _cool,_ and the best part is how he never seems to get annoyed by how Brad hangs around. Brad used to follow his sisters everywhere when he was a kid, until they started complaining about how lame it was that their annoying little brother tried to insert himself into everything they did.

Chris smokes as he works. Cigarettes, marijuana, some stuff that Brad doesn’t even recognize. Crack cocaine? Meth? Heroin? He doesn’t want to ask, mainly because Chris seems to think that Brad is actually kind of cool too, and Brad doesn’t want Chris to know exactly how wrong he is about that.

When Brad’s mom asks where he goes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Brad gives her a couple of answers. The park, the mall, the local In-N-Out Burger, Ryder’s Auto Repair.

(“Ryder’s Auto Repair?” his mom had said, raising an eyebrow.

Brad had shrugged. “Just once or twice. The owner’s son shows me the cars. It’s pretty cool.” 

He hadn’t been lying, not really. Well, he was lying a little with the “once or twice” thing, but that didn’t explain why he’d started sweating buckets, because it wasn’t _that_ big of a lie.

It’s just that there’s something about how Brad’s chest feels when he thinks about Chris that makes him feel guilty. He doesn’t know why for a long time. Until one afternoon. Chris is showing Brad how to adjust a valve lash, and they’re standing so close that Brad can see how Chris’s gray eyes are lined with gold around the pupil. Chris stops talking, suddenly, and his gaze drops to Brad’s lips. Brad feels a tug in his gut, and he thinks _oh_.)

 

 

 

Brad has kissed people before. He’s kissed Jess, of course. He’s played spin the bottle at parties. Also, there was that one time with Mandy from math class, when he and Jess were fighting and he wanted to make her jealous. 

All of those kisses pale in comparison to how Chris kisses him. In fact, Brad’s not even sure if he can even really call what he did with Jess and the girls at the party and Mandy-from-math-class kisses. That was kid stuff. This is what it’s like to kiss for real.

Chris makes Brad promise not to tell anyone about the kissing. Not that he needed to. Brad knows that what they’re doing is wrong. Boys who kiss boys are dying in the streets, and everyone keeps saying that they deserve it.

Brad knows that what they’re doing is wrong, but that’s not enough to stop him from coming in, every day, and getting kissed senseless by another boy.

It feels like he’s waking up.

 

 

 

Then he gets grounded, and it all falls apart.

It’s a total overreaction on his parents’ part. So what, he put flour in his sister’s hairdryer. How was he supposed to know that she had a date in twenty minutes? If anything, Brad taught her about the importance of _not_ waiting until the last minute to get ready.

He’s only grounded for three days, but he’s supposed to meet Chris tomorrow. Not just for their usual meet-up; Chris said he had a surprise for him.

Not for the first time, Brad wishes he had Chris’s phone number. Chris had said no, though, when Brad asked. Chris said he didn’t want anything tying them together. Which was a little more paranoid that Brad thought the situation warranted, but he hadn’t pressed it.

Brad doesn’t want to risk getting caught sneaking out, because then he would have to explain what was worth risking getting caught for. But he can’t stop thinking about Chris sitting in the garage, waiting for him, so next morning, Brad waits until he’s sure his parents won’t be back any time soon before gathering his nerve and leaving.

Chris is lying on a blanket in the shop, smoking a joint, when Brad arrives.

“Sorry I’m late,” Brad says quickly, hoping that Chris wasn’t waiting too long.

“It’s cool,” Chris says, propping himself up on his elbow. “Hey, c’mere.” There’s a rolling tray piled with marijuana on it, and he moves it out of the way so Brad can lie down next to him.

“Hi,” Brad says once he’s settled. Chris smells like aftershave and weed and motor grease, and Brad doesn’t think he’ll ever smell anything better.

“Hey,” Chris says. He holds out the joint. “You should have some.”

“Oh, uh.” Brad’s not really sure he can handle doing two bad things at once. Well, he already is, if he counts sneaking out. But he doesn’t. This kind of bad stuff is on a different level than sneaking out. “Uh, no thanks.” 

Chris frowns at that. “No, really. Have some.”

Brad scrambles for an excuse. “I– I have asthma,” is what he comes up with.

“Oh,” Chris says, looking back down at his joint. “Shit, why didn’t you say something earlier? Should I put this out?”

“No, it’s okay,” Brad says quickly. “It’s not that bad. I just don’t think I could handle, like, actually smoking.”

“Oh, okay,” Chris says, taking another drag. Brad watches, fascinated, as Chris’s long fingers bring the joint up to meet his pink lips. He can barely wait for Chris to finish blowing the smoke back out before kissing him.

They kiss for what must be hours, only pausing so Chris can take drags from his joint, or so he can roll another one. Chris’s hands start to travel, touching his waist, his hips, his ass, and Brad has never been so turned on in his life. Chris is turned on, too– Brad can feel it– and he’s slowly grinding his dick into Brad’s thigh. Brad’s careful to keep his crotch away from friction, though; he knows that if Chris so much as grazes his dick, it’ll be over, and Brad’s nowhere close to wanting to be done yet.

Chris is in the process of rolling another joint, and Brad’s lying flat on his back, trying to calm himself down, when he hears a woman say:

“What the  _hell?”_

Brad bolts upright to see his mom– his _mom–_ standing in the doorway of the shop, staring at them with an utterly aghast expression on her face, and Brad is suddenly paralyzed with absolute certainty that she knows he was just kissing Chris. 

“I– I’m sorry,” he stammers.

“Save it,” she snaps, grabbing Brad’s arm, just above his elbow, and yanking him towards her.

Brad turns back to look at Chris as she drags him away. He’s wide-eyed and pale, and he looks like he’s about to be sick. Brad’s sure he looks the same.

Brad’s shoved into the car, and they drive for five minutes of excruciating silence before his mom finally speaks.

“What are you on?” she demands. “Did you take anything?”

“I– I– what?” Brad stutters.

“Are you high right now?” she reiterates. “Are you an addict, Bradley?” 

“No!” Brad says instantly, and immediately wonders if he should have lied. Maybe she was trying to give him an out, an excuse for kissing Chris.

“Why should I believe you?” his mom asks. “I know you don’t go to youth group anymore; clearly I made a mistake trusting that you used your time wisely.” 

Brad feels like crying, except he’s fourteen now and he shouldn’t be crying. Even if it feels like his whole world is ending.

That fall, he’s sent to military school.

He doesn’t see Chris again.

 

 

 

Over twenty years later, Brad is a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marines with a boyfriend of nearly four years.

Nate’s parents know about Brad. They’ve known about him and Nate for years. Brad has spent holidays with them. He’s met all of Nate’s nieces and nephews. On Brad’s last birthday, Nate’s mother sent him a card. 

Nate had told him, multiple times, that he’d understand if Brad wanted to wait longer to tell his parents about them. If Brad never wanted to tell them at all. But there’s talk about DADT being repealed soon, and they’ve been talking about getting married when it finally happens. They’ve been talking about having children.

Brad’s life is heading in a direction he’d thought he’d lost along with Jess, and while he wants it, he really does, he knows he’ll never feel like he’s fully committed to it unless his parents know. Until then, it won’t feel real.

So when his mom invites him to dinner, Brad says yes. He brings a bottle of wine, and his mom makes a lasagna, and Brad just tries to let himself feel loved by them while he still can.

It’s all too soon that their plates are empty again, and his parents are just sitting there, chatting about nothing in particular, and Brad’s put this off long enough. He takes a deep breath.

“Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something.” 

He’s bemused when he sees his parents both tense. “Is it– already? You just got back,” his dad says, looking anxious.

“No, it’s not that,” Brad says, realizing they think he’s bringing up an upcoming deployment.

They relax instantly. “What is it?” his mom asks.

Brad allows himself a few deep breaths; after all, he might never see his parents again after this. He’ll take his time if he wants to. “I’m seeing someone,” he says. “A man.” He looks down at his plate as he waits for their disgust; he’s a goddamn Marine, and he can’t even look his mother or father in the eye. Fucking shameful.

“What’s his name?” 

The cheerful quality in his mother’s voice shocks him into looking up. “Nate,” he says, dumbfounded into answering without pause.

Neither of his parents look disgusted or angry or anything– they look a little surprised, but mostly, they just look pleased.

“How long have you two been together?” his mom asks, casual as anything.

Brad’s head is spinning. “Almost four years,” he says. Forget the other shoe; he’s still waiting for the first one to drop.

His dad raises his eyebrows. “That’s a long time,” he comments.

“That _is_ a long time,” his mom concurs. “Why did you wait so long to tell us?” 

Brad stares at her. “Are you kidding?” he blurts.

“No,” his mom says, her face open and honest. “Is it because it’s a man? I admit that it’s something of a surprise, but sweetheart, we just want to know that you’re happy.” 

Brad’s so stunned that he can’t even speak for a few moments. “What the fuck?” he finally manages to blurt.

They both startle at his language. “Bradley,” his father says, looking stern.

Brad ignores him. “Since when have you been okay with faggots? Don’t you think you could’ve told me when that changed?” 

“We– we aren’t homophobic. We’ve never been,” his father says, looking genuinely bemused. “Where is this coming from?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Brad demands, wincing a little at how shrill his voice has become in his distress. “You sent me to military school for being  _gay!”_  

His parents both freeze, looking at him with utterly dumbstruck expressions. 

“What… what are you  _talking_  about?” his mother says finally.

“You sent me to military school for  _being gay,”_  Brad repeats, growing more and more incensed by how they’re acting like they don’t have a fucking clue about what they did. “Don’t fucking act like you didn’t, because it  _fucking happened!”_

“I– I’m sorry, Brad, but I didn’t even know that you’re gay,” his father says cautiously. 

“You didn’t tell him?” Brad says, looking at his mother.

She looks stunned. “I– I didn’t know either, Brad,” she says. “I don’t– I don’t understand.” 

“What do you mean, you didn’t know? You saw me kissing Chris,” Brad says.

His mother is slowly shaking her head, a frown on her face. “I never…” She freezes suddenly, eyes going wide. “Wait, Chris?” 

“Chris Ryder,” Brad says. “Remember it now?” 

“No,” his mother says, her voice nearly a whisper. “No, Brad, I… No.” 

“Don’t you remember?” Brad says, but his voice is growing softer too, because he’s starting to realize that he can’t remember it either. What the fuck?

“I– I never saw you kissing Chris,” his mother says, her voice choked. “If I had, that man would be  _dead.”_  

Brad doesn’t even know where to begin reacting to that. “What?” 

“Chris was about ten years older than you, wasn’t he?” she says, and beside her, Brad’s father inhales sharply. “Brad, you– you were barely fourteen.” 

“It wasn’t like that,” Brad says, realizing what they’re thinking. “No, I– I’m gay, okay? I  _wanted_  to kiss him; he– he didn’t force himself on me.” 

“He was a grown man, and you were barely fourteen,” his mother says hollowly.

“I was chasing _him,”_  Brad insists, wondering a little at the desperate quality of his own voice. “I’m gay. I’m  _gay._  It’s not like he was some– some predator, or something.”

“You were a _child,”_ she says, voice breaking. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing,” Brad snaps. “It’s not like you made me gay.” 

“No, no, it’s not that,” his mom says quickly, shaking her head. “We– I should’ve _talked_ to you. I– I should’ve realized that there was something wrong with–” Her voice breaks off into a sob.

So much for not being homophobic. “You couldn’t have stopped me from being gay, and there is nothing wrong with me,” Brad says, horrified when he hears his voice crack on the word _wrong._ He quickly looks away, disgusted by the fact that he’s tearing up. He was expecting this reaction when he told them about Nate; why is he so surprised?

“No, no, baby, no, there’s nothing wrong with you,” his mother rushes to say. “But there _was_ something wrong with the fact that a grown man was hanging around a child, and I _didn’t see it.”_

“It wasn’t like that,” Brad says, but his words are losing their conviction. He’s starting to feel sick. _It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that. It wasn_ _’_ _t._

_It_ _wasn’_ _t._

“Brad,” his father says quietly. He’s been silent for a while, and Brad had nearly forgotten about him. “You said you– you and Chris had kissed. Did he…” He looks away, blinking furiously. “Did you and Chris do… anything else?” 

“You mean, did we have sex?” Brad says bluntly, some vengeful part of him feeling pleased when his parents flinch at his words. “Why do you even want to know?” 

“Because I’m your father, and I– I want to know how badly I failed you,” his dad says, sounding choked, and Brad feels throat close up. He has never seen his father cry, never.

“No,” Brad says quietly. “We kissed a few times. That was it.” 

His parents look as though they’ve just been torn apart, and guilt sits low in Brad’s chest. He shouldn’t have brought Chris up at all. He should’ve stopped and accepted that his parents didn’t know he was gay. Most of all, he should’ve realized that his memory of the time his mom walked in on him and Chris _isn_ _’_ _t fucking real._

“I’m so sorry, Brad,” his mom says, beginning to cry in earnest now. “Oh God, Brad, I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m fine, Mom,” Brad says awkwardly. “Really. Things– things are good. With Nate, and with… Everything.” 

“And I’m glad, sweetheart, I’m so glad,” she says, offering him a watery smile. “But you– I made life so much harder for you. Things are good in  _spite_ of me.” 

“God, Mom, you know that’s not true,” Brad says, startled. 

“Brad, you– you thought we sent you to military school because you were gay. You thought we were homophobic. I can’t– I can’t imagine what you must’ve gone through,” his mom murmurs. Her voice breaks, and his dad takes her hand. “You must’ve been so alone.” 

“It wasn’t so bad,” Brad says uncomfortably. It wasn’t, really. There was a learning curve, but it didn’t take too long to establish himself as someone not to be fucked with. “Mom, really. It’s okay.” 

“I just– I can’t stop thinking about what your life could have been like,” she says, her voice hushed. “If we’d listened to you, if we’d tried to understand…”

Brad doesn’t want to dwell on what ifs. Not because he thinks he might regret military school, but because he knows he won’t. If he hadn’t gone to military school, he wouldn’t have joined the Marines. He wouldn’t have become the man he is today. And he wouldn’t have met Nate.

Across from him, his parents are holding hands and trying not to cry. Nothing about today turned out the way he thought it would.

 

 

 

It’s close to midnight when Brad finally gets home, but Nate is still up, reading a book in the living room. When Brad comes in, Nate sets the book aside and stands up to greet him. 

“Hi,” Nate says softly, stepping forward and greeting him with a kiss. 

“Hi,” Brad says. He rests his forehead against Nate’s and just… breathes. 

Nate rests his hands on Brad’s hips, not grabbing him, just reminding him that he’s there. They stand there for a long moment, just sharing each other’s company.

“It wasn’t bad,” Brad says finally, but that’s not quite right, is it? “It wasn’t bad in the way I thought it would be,” he amends, because he doesn’t lie to Nate.

Nate hums. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

Brad has no idea if he wants to talk about it or not. He wouldn’t even know where to begin, anyways, because he can’t just fucking say  _My entire understanding of how I ended up in military school was wrong; also, the first real crush I had was on a pedophile who was probably grooming me._

“Later,” Brad says, knowing that Nate would be hurt if Brad dismissed him entirely. “I– I just need to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Nate nods, squeezing Brad’s arm. “Okay,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” Brad echoes.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning info:  
> 13/14-year-old Brad becomes physically involved with someone much older than he is. He doesn't realize that there was anything wrong with it until much, much later, after it's pointed out to him. There's kissing and a little bit of frottage depicted between 13/14-year-old Brad and the adult he's involved with, but other than that, there's no sexual contact between them, onscreen or off.  
> There's also recreational drug use, internalized homophobia, and oblique references to the 80s HIV/AIDS crisis in this fic.
> 
> Author's note:  
> This is something that I've had floating around for... ten months? I honestly don't know how I feel about it. It hints at another story I'd like to write some day about the impact of growing up queer and feeling isolated because of it, the dangers of isolation, and the implications of coming of age during the HIV/AIDS crisis.  
> Comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.


End file.
